Dark Wilson Ficlets
by Sheriff Kirby
Summary: A series of unrelated ficlets written for the dark Wilson prompt-a-thon on LJ. Prompt, rating and warnings specified in each chapter.
1. Chapter 1

_Rating: K+ or T. I'm not really sure.  
Warnings: Swearing, cruelty.  
Prompt: House/Wilson; House isn't feeling so well these days. Any rating is fine, but NC-17 is always good._

_---------_

"You ever see Sixth Sense?" asked Wilson, as he placed the tray of soup and bread on House's lap.

House nodded. "You know I have," he replied, then attempted to stifle a coughing fit with one hand and hold the bowl of soup still with the other. Once the coughing had finally abated, he placed his hands back under the covers. "We rented it a few years back, remember?"

"Right, of course. I remember now." Wilson nodded and handed House a spoon. House ignored it. Wilson sighed. "You need to eat House," he said, then shook his head and tutted.

"I'm not hungry."

Wilson frowned. "Show me your hands," he said.

House shook his head and shoved his hands further into the blankets that surrounded him, like a petulant child. "I'm just not hungry."

"Show me your hands!" Wilson repeated, shouting this time.

House just stubbornly shook his head again.

Wilson viciously grabbed House's arms and pulled them out from the covers. He held House's hands in front of his face to look at them. They were shaking like leaves in the wind; there was no way House could possibly have held the utensil like Wilson was asking, let alone kept the soup on it long enough to bring it to his mouth. "God dammit House." Wilson slammed his hand down on the bedside table in frustration. House flinched away, his jerking response only making matters worse by sloshing soup on the clean covers.

"I'm sorry. I can't help it," House said pathetically.

"That's the problem though, isn't it?" Wilson asked rhetorically. He grabbed the spoon and jerkily lifted it to House's mouth, forcing it in, even when House tried to turn away, and forcing another in after he gagged on the first. "You can't help it that your leg hurts, you can't help it you're a drug addict, you can't help it the bus crashed, you can't help it that Amber died, you can't help it you're brain damaged," House flinched at Wilson brusqueness. Wilson just continued shoving soup down his throat, "you can't help it you have pneumonia, you can't help it that you can't take a god dammed shit by yourself. Is there anything you'll just take responsibility for?" Wilson snorted, "Not likely."

"I'm sorry," said House, after finishing the last mouthful of soup.

"Sure you are." Wilson scoffed. He dropped the spoon in the empty bowl with a clank, grabbed the tray, ignoring the uneaten bread, and House's pathetically weak grip on his right sleeve, and left the room, slamming the door behind him, and leaving House alone.

------

_Note: I was thinking Münchausen syndrome by proxy at first (hence the Sixth Sense comment), but it was a little difficult to get across, so I just made Wilson an ass instead. Yeah…_


	2. Chapter 2

_Rating: T  
__Warnings: None really.  
__Prompt: House/Wilson; Wilson non-consensually conducts surgery. Any rating._

_-------_

House heaved his heavy head up from the toilet bowl, and groaned. He relaxed his white knuckled grip on the toilet seat, wrapped one arm gently around his stomach, pulled himself up off the floor with the other, using the bathtub for leverage, and stumbled out of the bathroom.

Wilson was relaxing on the couch, either unaware of, or not troubled by, House's pain. House staggered the rest of the way to the couch, and carefully sat down in the vacant seat next to Wilson. "I need to go to the hospital," murmured House, voice just loud enough to be heard, "I think I have appendicitis."

Wilson snorted. "That's a likely story."

House held back another groan of pain. "It's the truth. You can check." House regretted it being necessary, but hoped it might help. He even added a please.

Wilson finally turned away from the TV to look House up and down. House was sure he must look as bad as he felt. Wilson's lips pursed in thought, it looked almost like a pout. After a moment, Wilson slowly raised his bag of chips and offered them to House. House shook his head, "Even if I was hungry, which I'm not, you know I couldn't eat them."

"Fine." Wilson got up off the couch. "Lie down," Wilson demanded. House slowly began to lower himself into a lying position. "Oh don't be so melodramatic." Wilson grabbed House by the shoulders and pushed him down. House winced and hugged his stomach, the jerking motion having aggravated the pain.

Wilson kneeled down, lifted the hem of House's shirt and palpated the lower right side of his abdomen, House yelped and tried to pull away. Wilson tried again to the same result.

"Was that second time really necessary?" asked House in a strained voice.

"Just making sure," replied Wilson. Wilson leisurely lifted himself up off the floor, and patted at imaginary dust on the legs of his pants.

"Hurry it up," moaned House.

Wilson disappeared for a moment, and reappeared with a first-aid kit. "You feel nauseated?" Wilson asked, as he took a digital thermometer out of the kit and placed it in House's mouth.

"No. I was just puking in the bathroom because I'm bulimic. Of course I do, you idiot."

Wilson took the thermometer out, read it and sighed. "You have a fever. I think you're right, it looks like appendicitis…"

"Thank you," House said sarcastically.

"…but I'm not taking you to the hospital."

House shot up into a sitting position, screamed in agony, then lay back down. "Well that was stupid," scolded Wilson.

"And you're insane. I need to go to the hospital, Wilson."

Wilson shook his head and laughed. "I have a full, sterile, med-kit in my car, as well as everything else I need. No reason I can't do it here. It's been a while, but I imagine it's like riding a bike. Or, I hope it is at least."

"You're insane!"

"Now you're just repeating yourself."

"I'll get an infection."

"Possible. I did clean today though. Don't worry, I'll get you something for it if you do."

House grabbed the phone, "I'm calling an ambulance. You've gone nuts."

Wilson snatched the phone before House could finish dialling. "Oh, no sorry, I can't let you do that, it could cause a problem. You see, well, funny thing actually, everyone kind of thinks you're dead. And when I say kind of… I mean they do. Buried you yesterday actually. Very nice service. You'd be surprised at how many people turned up. But now I'm just rambling, best get on with this before you have a rupture."

"Ha, ha, great, good one. All very funny. But can you just please take me to the god damn hospital now!" shouted House, as he tried to grab the phone back from Wilson with minimal movement.

"I'm sorry House. But I wasn't joking." House felt a pinch in his arm, and looked up to see Wilson holding a used syringe and looking apologetic. "Really, it just sort of got out of hand. Look on the bright side; at least you still have me." Then House fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_Rating: K+  
__Warnings: None.  
__Pairing: House/Wilson  
__Prompt: Wilson/anyone, prompt: dirty little secret, any rating._

---------

"You bastard!"

House blinked, mildly confused at the anger in Wilson's voice. "Excuse me?" he asked, as he closed the front door behind him.

House didn't have a chance to avoid, or even brace for the blow. It came suddenly, without warning, and the first he knew of it was feeling the air leave him as Wilson's fist hit his abdomen. House dropped his cane to the floor and doubled over, arms wrapped around his stomach, futilely trying to draw in sufficient breath. "I told you not to tell anyone," said Wilson. Out of the corner of his eye House could see Wilson placing his hands on his hips, it almost would've been amusing, if he could breathe.

"Am I…" House attempted to take a breath deep enough to allow him to finish his sentence, "your dirty little secret?" He tried to laugh, but it turned into a chocked groan, and gasp for air.

There was a pause, long enough that House didn't think Wilson was actually going to reply, but not quite long enough for House to catch his breath. To House's surprise, Wilson started laughing. Not in the friendly, that-was-a-good-joke, way, and definitely not in the nervous, you-didn't-really-mean-that, sense, but more of a repetitive growl, it sounded almost manic. It made House feel somewhat anxious. House raised his head slightly so he could see Wilson's face. Wilson was smirking. "Yes, you are actually," Wilson replied, once his laughter had died down.

House blinked and shook his head, "You don't mean that."

Wilson snickered. "Actually, I do." Wilson leaned over and picked House's cane up off the floor. House, naturally assuming Wilson was going to give it back to him, put his hand out for it. Wilson whacked House's arm with the cane, then threw it over his shoulder. It hit a book case, knocked over a few books, and landed on the floor with a thunk. House yelped, withdrew his arm, and rubbed at the sore spot. That was going to hurt in the morning.

"What the hell did you do that for?" House asked.

Wilson ignored him and began searching House's pockets. He grabbed House's cell phone, keys, wallet, and vicodin. House was confused, but didn't attempt to stop him. Before he knew it, House was standing on the front step, and Wilson had locked the door. House knocked weakly on the door, not sure why Wilson was so mad. "Wilson?" he asked. "I didn't say anything to them. They found out for themselves."

Wilson opened the door a crack, the chain was on, so House couldn't have forced his way in, even if he had been strong enough. Wilson shook his head, "I don't believe you House. Now get lost."

"This is _my_ apartment, and you took my stuff!" House shouted, "Where the hell am I supposed to go?"

"I don't care House. I really don't care." Wilson slammed the door in House's face. House tried knocking again, but there was no answer.


	4. Chapter 4

_Last one for now. My least favourite one too._

_Rating: T  
__Warnings: Implied non-consensual use of body for sex (if that makes sense).  
__Pairing: Wilson/Amber  
__Prompt: Wilson, desparate to have Amber back, and House, desparate to make it up to Wilson, find a supernatural way to implant Amber's soul in House's body temporarily. With Wilson's overwhelming need for Amber and House's lack of control, Wilson breaks some barriers that House would otherwise not have consented to. Any rating._

---------

"Come on House, you can do this for me, can't you?" Wilson had the look of a kicked puppy on his face, his eyes looked watery, and his head was down. "It's only for a few hours. I just want to talk to her. Please."

House hesitated. "Just talk? No funny business?" he asked.

"No funny business," Wilson confirmed, nodding forcefully. A smile spread out on his face as he lifted his head to look House in the eye. House was still reluctant, but one final 'please' from Wilson did the trick.

"Okay," said House, nodding slowly.

-------

"I still can't believe it's you." Wilson sighed and shuffled closer to… Amber?… House?… Oh who cared, it didn't matter anyway. She was Amber now, forget about House.

"_I _still can't believe it's me," said Amber, laughing, and scratching at her stubbly chin.

Wilson smiled and leaned over to rub at her cheek. "You should shave," he whispered in her ear. He tenderly ran his hand across her chin, pulled her face closer as he did, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

Amber pulled back slowly, and looked down at her hands, "Um, House, is…?" she paused, uncharacteristically unsure of herself.

Wilson didn't like that, he didn't like that at all. He stopped himself from frowning and before she had a chance to continue, placed a fake smile on his lips, lifted her face and looked her in the eyes. "He said we could do _whatever we wanted,_" he said, eyes flicking towards House's bedroom. It was House's fault Amber was dead, House's fault she was acting so timid, so who was House to deny him this.

"That… doesn't sound like House," Amber said.

"What can I say, he's my friend." Wilson shrugged, and pushed himself up off the couch with a smirk. "What do you say we take advantage of his unexpected generosity?" Wilson asked, tilting his head towards the bedroom.

Amber paused again, but after a moment of hesitation, she nodded, reached for House's cane, carefully got up and followed Wilson into the bedroom.


End file.
